


The Faithful and The Demons

by V_mum



Series: Kaayras Adaar [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: And yet, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor canon divergence, Qunari, Val Royeaux, between canon occurrences, more like, not really - Freeform, stoic, supportive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 23:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_mum/pseuds/V_mum
Summary: There was always a hitch, a bump in the road, when he responded to someone who’d say that word to him. About him. "Demon."never acknowledges it, doesn't miss a step. but there was always a little hitch.





	The Faithful and The Demons

Cassandra is a faithful woman. She questions, but everyone does in a position like hers. 

It’d be of more worry if someone who’d seen as much of the world as she had  _ didn't _ question. It would be painful- more than painful, just intolerable- to just accept the suffering of the world was  _ as the maker willed it to be _ without a moment of question. 

One thing that’d never made her question her faith was the Inquisitor- and by the inquisitor, she would mean the specificity of who he  _ is _ . 

Maybe she questioned if he was a Herald. Maybe she questioned if it was Andraste herself that saved his life in the conclave- why  _ would _ she, when Andraste could have just saved the  _ divine _ , a faithful woman to what was right- this was a question that often plagued her. Surely Justinia was worthy, was deserving- why a mercenary? Why a man with no connection to a chantry, or to either mages or templars? Why send someone with no connection at all to the major problems at hand?

Those were things she’d questioned.

She did not, unlike other faithful, question him for what he was. Perhaps questioned why him, but, not question because of what he is. Why Kaayras Adaar-  _ not  _ why a Qunari, not why a man, not way a  _ demon _ .

The Orlesian Chantry were some of the most difficult to deal with in this manner. When they were not merely aghast with him in Val Royeaux, leading a rival power inquisition they would not support, aghast with his taste in fashion, or lack of flower scented fragrances, or lack of  _ lace _ \- they were damning him. 

Perhaps her first dedications came to faith, came to order, came to truth. She served those things first. But her unofficial inquisitor (leading them from the start, even if he wasn't  _ the inquisitor _ to those outside the inquisition yet) - a friend, if she dared, a leader and a hope for the future and a herald if she did not feel particularly fine with a personal connection in stoic assertion of independence- was by no account a  _ demon _ .

Inquisitor Kaayras was a calm, relaxed man, on the surface. Observed confrontation or conversations in quiet unless spoken to, spoken of. Honest to a fault- it made  _ using  _ the “Herald of Andraste” card most difficult for both her and the other advisors when, if asked if he was the Herald, most often responded with “I don't know” or kept his beliefs vague. Cassandra wasn't sure  _ what _ he believed, or even believed in before all of this, but she knew he did not lie easily about it, or about anything. When he  _ did  _ speak- invited to, or because he stumbled his way into some sort of problem he wants to help with, he spoke with a thoughtful and calm mannerism; if sometimes slow, whether speaking Common or his own native tongue. Sometimes with a hesitance, a quiet uncertainty- dealing with a word he didn't know in common tongue, or a piece of history he wasn't familiar of, coming from an entirely different history. Sometimes, just thinking on a response, careful in nearly everything he said. Sometimes, Cassandra got the feeling he had some sort of difficulty talking at all. When, if he ever did, she heard him speak the tongue of Qunari people, there was a stuttering loop to words she’d heard the Iron Bull speak clearly. Sometimes he stuttered the common language, too, if he didn't go slow. 

A stutter was not  _ rare _ in the fighting professions. Head damage, shaken up or blunt force, just happens to the best of warriors. The way he can right it, correct it, if he hesitates to think and prepare himself, makes her think it's not a damage he wasn't  _ born _ with. He stops talking, though, if he hears himself stutter. She wonders if its embarrassment.

He takes  _ very _ long to speak in Orlais. Surrounded with the ‘proper’ masses, people who pick apart for any minor detail, flaw, to use against you. It's unfortunate that the long heartbeats of hesitation can sometimes be just as bad as a stutter.  _ Dumb _ demon either way- taking to long to speak, or not speaking right. They don't let him rest either way. Keeps his gloved hands fisted tight and ignores their polite, delighted, ugly smiles when he doesn't speak perfect, every time.

_ Ugly _ demon or  _ terrifying _ demon are just as bad as  _ stupid _ demon, for him. She thinks he tightens up, harden up the worst as  _ cruel _ demon, but that's only her guess.

There was always a  _ hitch,  _ a bump in the road, when he responded to someone who’d say that word to him. About him. Something in the way that his muscle- all that muscle, it makes a person exude a  _ confidence _ and a  _ self assuredness _ , to be so big, but she's never heard any of the confidence from Kaayras himself, impressions- expectations- aside. His rigid muscles tighten in a certain way that draws his shoulders higher. A single line of muscle in his neck is strung with just enough added definition, more than normal, a clue that could almost let her  _ hear  _ his teeth clench and grind.

The world doesn't know much about this man, not as much as it thinks. All that is known is what came after he fell out of the void, vision of Andraste herself pushing him into safety- a horned, dark black and red figure rolling out of the veil and collapsing, such a terrifying sight that the soldiers who’d found him after the destruction of the conclave almost attacked him, under impression they’d stumbled upon a possession, an atrocity, or a demon. 

A demon, though, is not the Case. He is the herald.

She’s had such a long day, trekking all the way out to Val Royeaux for the third time this week- They’d come for something, a reason, some woman here looking for a contact with the inquisition. Someone willing to send goods and make new deals with them, scared after the chantry was deserted by the templars. Only 9? 10 days ago? It hadn't been long since then, since the templar desertion.

The chantry had grandstanded that day, too. The word  _ demon  _ was used then, too. Like the Herald was an agent of a new blight, like he wasn't given to them in faith by Andrate-  _ supposedly _ , Maker, she wanted to believe it, wanted to believe the Maker and Andraste had sent them a messiah in a time of need, she wants to have  _ faith _ \- but they said  _ demon,  _ like he was just another pride beast fallen from a tear in the sky.

The only sources of Pride she saw was this Chantry Sister, smarting off that Inquisitor Kaayras ought to be hung, a Demon impersonating a Herald. 

Cassandra does not have the class for Court Talk in round-about speech, like Vivienne- most recent edition of the inquisition. Does not have the Calm of Leliana to wait until  _ later  _ for a revenge strike, either. She's a woman trained in a sword, with a quick and angry tongue, but neither will help her here. 

Kaayras- jaw tight, muscles risen, shoulders up, shifts on his heel once. He's as tall as he is, and still somehow- maybe as she knows him too well, since the start of all this mess (when he seemed such a mysterious  _ threat) _ \- still, somehow, manages to seem  _ small  _ to her in the situation.

Calmly he insures this-  _ barely a sister-  _ Chantry woman, that he will do the best he can, anyway. To fix the Breach, he says, to fix the chaos, and to-  _ fix your order _ . 

Its an amount of back handedness that is rare from Kaayras. That's not how he says it, he says something more smooth- it almost counts like speaking Court, the way he says it, but Cassandra remembers best that, after a second of thought on what’d said, Kaayras had just assured this woman politely that he would  _ fix her powerlessness _ in these matters.

Vivienne, who's with them and standing back with Sera, makes a hum in agreement, delighted, and adds in something that is fortunately more confident that Kaayras, something more designed for the city they are in, and the Sister has no opportunity to make snide remarks to Cassandra’s friend- her inquisitor, her charge, the herald.

Sera, unfavored to court as she is, finds it an uproariously good time to laugh, in with her slang and disrespectful nature drives Vivviene's assertion home whole, if… taking a bit of eloquence away from Vivviene's golden tongued barb. The mage seems not too affected with the drop in charisma, so much as content with the chantry sister fleeing. Masked Orlesians, always undoubtedly listening in, will have a new rumor or two. That some sister lost a bicker, bit off more than she could chew, challenging the herald of Andraste, the first enchanter, and an elf peasant.

The rough hinge of the Herald’s draw softens. His shoulders aim down the slightest once more- still square, more than you average immovable force, always ready for an attack, but calm again. A few lines crinkle over the purple patterns painted on his face from the corner of his eyes as he offers a small side smile toward Sera, who's laughter doubles into a delighted howl to see an uptight Court Sister sent on her way.

Cassandra may not have the double worded sword of Vivienne, or other skills to out word a Court in Val Royeaux. But neither does Sera, and unfortunately, neither does her Herald, the one they accuse, here.

The seeker actively decides that the next person to refer to her friend as demon better be outside the Lion City’s walls, and better be someone she can hold her sword against, because she  _ decisively _ decides she  _ will  _ do so next time. For a friend or for honor or for loyalty, who cares, but she's sick of watching his false confidence tried, and she's sick of hearing the word Demon when  _ real demons _ are too real a threat these days.

She gets the chance on their return to haven, thankfully with the Herald out of earshot- He’s busy fighting a Bear that had wandered into their fight against a rebel band of templars. She catches the Inquisitor sail out of the shadows, daggers flying- how such a large man can operate such stealth, she won't ever know- as Vivienne fires up a barrier to protect him from its claws.

In the same instance she sees it, so does the Templar Swordsman, and he scoffs her betrayal of the order’s  _ cause _ for protecting that  _ demon _ -

The satisfaction is of not just holding a sword to someone's throat, but right through them. She scrapes him off her sword by pushing her shield against him, and Sera whistles, impressed, as Kaayras brings down a Great Bear, re-brandishing his daggers Readily, in case more enemies remained. There did not.

He’s not a demon, but, he certainly fights like one. But he's not one- punctuated as proof, he sheathes his tools and turns to Vivienne, bursting into an apology for jumping in the way of her magic- multiple times, due to his habit of appearing suddenly into battle. He's got a knob of an arrow sticking out of his upper arm, too- never even noticed when he’d appeared in the path of Sera’s archery.  _ Certainly,  _ he fights as unreal as a demon, ignoring pain or feelings. Only swinging blades, and disappearing in smoke and shadow.

Sera pulls it out, and he suddenly realizes it was there with a sharp, throaty yelp, and Sera starts howling with laughter again.

She has faith in him, Cassandra thinks, at ease. Not a  _ demon _ , but a  _ Herald _ . No demon can howl in pain, nor complain about it the way Kaayras does.

Vivienne gives a small sigh and makes to heal his arm, and Cassandra starts to scold the mad laughter of the elf. There are no demons, here.

**Author's Note:**

> woof hurrah. we start small, not very long; Cassandra POV


End file.
